Ace’s POV
Voices echo through my mind like an incessant pounding of a drum, grating on every last nerve. I grit my teeth to avoid telling everyone to shut up so I can think. It doesn’t help that we’re crammed into the formal dining room in Enzo’s mansion, waiting for him to arrive.
My nails dig painfully into my palms, my fists pressed to my thighs. The wooden chair creak beneath my weight as I lean back, staring at the deep mahogany table I’m sure must’ve cost a fortune. Glasses of whiskey litter the vast space, consumed at different paces by the men occupying every seat. They’re men I’ve known for many years and respect, but right now, I want to get lost in my thoughts about a certain silver-haired woman.
Walking the streets of New York City with Paetyn a few days ago was unexpected
